


It Began in a Chop Shop.

by attasaurus



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Cockblocking, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 06:02:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5573551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/attasaurus/pseuds/attasaurus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Gaby and Illya's first kiss happened in a garage? (Post-TMFU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Began in a Chop Shop.

It was the third motorcycle Illya had wrecked within two weeks. When he wheeled it into the U.N.C.L.E headquarters’ garage, the squeaking of the bent back wheel immediately brought Gaby out from the back where she had been fiddling with a newly launched Porsche 911. Her hair was up, held back by a piece of cloth tied around her head and she was wearing a blue coveralls. A frown marred her forehead when she saw the motorcycle.

“What happened?!” She asked, wiping her greasy hands on a cloth. Illya grunted as he pushed the Métisse towards the little German.

“Engine overheated. Was going after mark with Cowboy when motorcycle decided to stall. I hope he does not mess mission up.” He leaned the motorcycle against the workbench before he stepped aside so that Gaby could have a look-see.

“I’m pretty sure Napoleon has it all figured out.” Gaby pulled out a stool and sat down on it before she started examining the motorcycle. “Are you sure the engine overheated?”

A snort. “Of course I am sure, Chop Shop Girl.”

“Mmhmm…”

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“I’m just saying that it maybe, just maybe… you might have ran over a rock and went off the road.”

“I am telling you, engine overheated.”   
  
“All right, all right...Do you want to go change into coveralls first? Wouldn’t want you to get grease all over…” She looked over at Illya’s all-black outfit. “Nevermind.”

“I will stay.” Illya informed her, crossing his arms over his chest. What he didn’t want to tell her was that he crashed the Métisse on purpose… all three times. Ever since they were stationed in U.N.C.L.E’s headquarters, Gaby had opted to help out in the understaffed garage. Which meant that Illya saw less of her since he was out on field. Which also meant that Illya was extra grumpy.

“Suit yourself.” Gaby ducked her head, focusing on further examining the motorcycle. Truth be told, she liked the fact that Illya was there in the garage with her. Working alone in the garage was fun, sure, but it was awfully lonely. She missed Napoleon’s constant talking and Illya’s constant… silence. Especially the latter. Illya was quiet most of the time but she knew he would always be attentive. Blue eyes framed by long lashes watching her every move. Gaby let out a huff as she remembered the many times they’ve nearly kissed only to be interrupted by people (or in that one case, her falling asleep). “Stupid.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing, I was just talking to myself. Are you sure you’re fine just standing there?”

Illya nodded, “Da. Is okay.” What he meant to say was, “I like the view.” but of course, he was too shy to say it out loud. “Do you think Waverley is going to let me have another motorcycle?”

“Maybe… if you ask nicely.” She teased. “I think I might be able to fix this one. The damage isn’t as bad as the last one you brought in. That one was bent almost into half.”

“Tree came out of nowhere.” Illya deadpanned, making Gaby laugh.

“Of course. Could you hand me the spanner?”

Illya turned to the workbench and reached out, picking out the tool needed from the toolbox. “Here.”

“ _ Danke _ . Hmm… this bolt is stuck.”   
  
“Do you need me to help you?” Illya frowned, standing upright. 

“Oh no, I can do this.” Gaby waved him off, grunting as she attempted to turn the bolt again. “I told you, I can do this.” She grumbled when Illya crouched down beside her. The bolt finally turned and she let out a sound of triumph. “See, I told you!” She turned to look at Illya, who was staring at the bolt in her hand, pretty much impressed. Grinning, she reached out and smudged a line of grease down his cheek.

Illya had been staring at the bolt in wonderment when Gaby drew a greasy finger down his cheek. He shook his head in surprise, “Wha-? Hey!” His hand automatically went up to his cheek, trying to wipe the grease away but instead just smudged it even more and made Gaby laugh out - it was the most she had laughed since coming to work in the garage.

“Don’t wipe it like that! You’re just going to make it worse!” Gaby giggled, taking out a cloth. “Here, I’ll help.” She reached out and gently started to wipe his cheek, awfully aware of the blue eyes watching her. “There. That’s the last of it.” She was about to pull her hand away when Illya reached up, his big hand clamping onto her wrist. “Illya-”

“I missed you.” Illya blurted out before his cheeks took on the hue of ripe tomatoes.

Gaby’s mouth dropped. Did the Red Peril actually said what he said? “W-what did you say?”

Illya immediately shook his head, embarrassed by his outburst. “ _ Nyet,  _ it was nothing.” Oh boy, he had gone ahead and made it awkward. He was sure of it. He dusted his pants and made to get up. “I should go. See if Cowboy has come bac-OPH!” He toppled over onto his back, winded when Gaby threw herself at him.

“I missed  _ you _ .” She breathed, her hands pinning his shoulders onto the floor. She leaned down, her lips hovering over his. It was exactly like that time in the hotel room in Rome, except that she wasn’t boozed up. Gaby saw Illya’s eyes widen as he watched her. Damn those eyes. 

Illya swallowed as he looked up at Gaby. Did she say she missed him?! He was still processing the new information when she started leaning down. His heart hammered in his chest and his eyes widened, not sure how to proceed. His hands went up to her waist, fingers digging slightly into the coveralls before he threw all caution to the winds and leaned up, pressing his lips against hers. 

The kiss started gentle - it was their first time and they both wanted to drag it out for as long as they could but all those near kisses and longing looks took a toll on their patience and soon enough, the both of them deepened it. Gaby’s hands by then had left Illya’s shoulders and had dragged up to cup his jaw, her thumb stroking the stubble on his cheeks. Once Gaby’s hands left his shoulders, Illya sat up and wrapped his arms around her waist. He let out a groan when Gaby decided to be cheeky and nip his lower lip.

Gaby pulled away momentarily to catch her breath and giggled at how frazzled Illya looked. “Are you all right?” She asked, grinning so wide her cheeks hurt. Illya nodded, speechless. He was fine. Yep. “Good.” She bent her head down and kissed him again, this time giving him a bit of tongue. 

As their kiss got deeper once again, Illya’s hand wandered up to her hair, his fingers weaving through the strands as he tried to undo her ponytail. Gaby let go of her hold on his jaw and reached up, helping him pull her hair out of the binding. She pulled away, shaking her head to loosen the now free strands. She looked down at Illya, who was gawking at her. “...What?”

“ _ Bozhe moi _ ,  _ ty krasivaya. _ ” Illya exhaled. Gaby’s Russian might be limited but she had had enough lessons with him to know that he just paid her a compliment. Her cheeks warmed up and she bent down to whisper in his ear.

“ _Du bist mir ans Herz gewachsen_ _. _ ”

And just like that, the floodgates opened and Gaby’s hands scrambled all over Illya’s body, grumbling as she tried to untuck his shirt. She managed to pull it up just enough to slide her hands under. She pressed her palms against his skin, marvelling at how his body was cool to the touch - the man must have the Russian winters in his blood.

“Mm, you have warm hands.” Illya mumbled, eyes closed as he relished the feeling of Gaby’s fingers stroking his belly. “I love it.” A moment later, he let out a soft sound of protest and opened his eyes when Gaby removed her hands. “What are you doing?” He asked, watching her sit back. He gulped when he saw Gaby’s fingers go to the buttons of her coveralls and it hit him what she wanted to do. “Gaby. Gabriella. Here?”

Gaby started unbuttoning the top few buttons, quickly showing more skin Illya has ever seen on her before. “ _ Ja _ , here.” She smirked, undoing the buttons to her waist. The coveralls parted, revealing that she was wearing only her bra underneath. “Your turn.” Gaby teased, gesturing to his untucked shirt. 

Illya was a man who rarely showed his emotions but once he saw the amount of skin Gaby was showing, his eyes nearly bugged. “I-I-Of course.” He nodded, reaching down and tugging his shirt up. He jerked when he felt Gaby’s warm lips on his chest and he suddenly found himself unable to completely pull his shirt off, making Gaby chortle against his chest.

“Stop that, Gaby. It tickles.”   
  
“What does? This?” She breathed against his chest before running her lips against the skin. She felt the gooseflesh rise and she grinned.

Illya let out a strangled sound, still struggling to remove his shirt. “ _ Da _ , that.” 

“Do you need help?”

“ _ Nyet _ . I can take care of shirt myself.”

“Suit yourself.” She grinned. “In the meantime, I’ll enjoy the view of your body.” She leaned back and did so.

As Illya was struggling with his shirt (probably the only time in his life that he hates turtlenecks so much), Napoleon came striding into the garage, intending to look for Gaby. “Gabs, I need you to - whoa.” He stopped short when he saw what was happening. Gaby squeaked, pulling her coveralls closed as Illya froze.

“Please… tell me that is not Cowboy.” He muttered, to which Napoleon flashed his trademark grin.

“All revved up, Peril?”

“ _ Suka _ .” 

**Author's Note:**

>  _Bozhe moi, ty krasivaya_ = "My god, you're beautiful."  
>  _Du bist mir ans Herz gewachsen._ = "You are very close to my heart."  
>  _Suka._ = "Bitch."


End file.
